


Livable Hatred

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cheating, Consensual Adultery, Fake Miscarriage, M/M, compulsory heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 13:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10491561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: The secret life of Seth and Amber.





	

Wedding? Done. Now he had a job in Australia. Sweet. It was hot and boring over there, since of course, Dethklok Australia's HQ had to be smack-dab in the middle of the damn place. (And, as anyone with a modicum of intelligence knows, once you go towards the center of Australia, everything starts trying to kill you.) If he were in any other situation, he'd consider himself lucky to be still standing. But this was Dethklok, and now he was provided for, and just feeling depressed.

Knocking back a plastic cup full of vodka, he stared into the kitchen sink. Amber was only 25, too damn young to be marrying, and yet there they were. Trapped in holy matrimony, sealed together by the fateful vows. Because she thought Seth had money, probably, and hey -- now she was right.

"I t'ot you says you aren't drinking."

She didn't have a good grasp on the English language. (She was from the Philippines, or Malaysia, or something. He felt like he'd been told, and immediately forgot the answer.) But at the very least she knew how to get a point across. "If you drinks d'at means you aren't sober."

"I guess."

"We have a child soon. You cannot drink when he is born."

"Why'n th' fuck naht, yer the one gonna be raisin' him."

"If you are going to be d'at way, we should just gotten an abortion."

"I couldn't, I told you, my mudder would'a killed me."

"How will she know? Tele... tel..." She took a moment. "Telepathy?"

"That kind'a thing gets around in Tomahawk, alright? Jesus."

"I put him up for adoption, then."

"Is anyone gonna wonder where he went?"

"Who cares? You are an adult now. I start making my own decisions when I am sixteen."

"Right, 'n look where that's gotten ya."

Amber grunted, returning to her cell phone. Peeking over her shoulder, Seth couldn't understand a lick of what she was writing, and backed off. It didn't matter, anyway. A divorce wasn't in the cards for either of them -- not without money, anyway. But they knew well enough that they didn't like each other, and that was what mattered, in the end. 

-

The dial tone rang through the phone speakers. Making calls as far as America would force others to pay extra, so he just opted for using Skype. There was a sort of scratchy microphone sound as Magnus picked up on the other end.

"Hey."

"Hi." He had his cell phone set on a windowsill, a bottle of Jack clenched in his fist. "Sorry I hadda go on such short notice."

"It's fine. Where did you move in Australia?"

"...Shit, man, I dunno. Off the grid, I guess."

"What kind of job has you living off the grid?"

"Pickles gave me free Dethklok work over here, so I took it... y'know." Magnus grumbled on the other line. "Sure, you two had a fallin'-out, but I need the support. I can't spend my whole life in Wisconsin livin' in mom's attic wit' nothin' but a bed and an all-in-one fax machine."

"I guess."

"...We really are far apart now, huh."

Seth scoffed. It sucked, but whatever. He'd been raised with only self-sufficiency in mind, and if that meant being unhappy, then so be it. He'd wash it down with alcohol. "Distance between Florida and Australia is pretty big."

"How's the lady of the household?"

"Oh, Amber's jus' over there... sendin' text messages."

Amber knew that Seth was, at some level, _dating_ Magnus. Neither of them cared, so long as it didn't get out to anyone. He gave Amber the right to play the field on her own time, so it was as fair as he could make it. They just really, REALLY weren't into one another. He'd married for obligation, and she'd married for support. No love included. "'s been a hard trip but... y'know, we're gettin' shit figured out."

"That's good. Do you think you could ever come down here?"

"Maybe if I get vacation days."

"I see. Well, uh, a friend of mine needs me real quick. So I'll get back to you later?"

"Uh-huh."

"Bye, babe."

"Bye."

Magnus hung up first. Amber sighed.

"It'll be much easier to just get a date who lives nearby here."

"Nothin' lives near here except spiders th' size a' your hand."

"I thought you like spiders."

"Not in that way, Christ."

Amber rarely returned his sarcastic retorts. She really wasn't much fun. But at the very least, they rarely argued about things. It was a weight pulled off of his back. "Do you think mahm 'n dad are gonna wanna see our kid?"

"It is none of their concern."

Seth had, at least, a few ideas as to why his mother hated Pickles so much. Because he went into the arts? Possibly. Because he identified as male from a very young age? Quite likely. Because he got a sex change and is now using his brand new dick to pound another guy? A potential answer. Just because of _who he was?_ Easily an option. Regardless, Seth didn't want to end up on his parents' shit list. The degradation would be too much for his feeble ego.

"It kinda is."

"We are living alone now. Their approving isn't important anymore."

"Yeh, but--"

"No buts. In the end, we make the decision about our son."

"...I don't usually make decisions 'bout much of anythin'."

"Is that why you are such a man baby?"

He had no answer.

-

"Yanno, I really wish you hadn't worked fer yer brother's band." He couldn't stand letting mom and dad come to visit, especially with how expensive it was to get there. It made him feel awful. "You 'n I both know he's wastin' his time."

"It pays the bills."

"What a lovely couch! It's quite sahft. Calvert! Calvert, what're you doin'?" His father appeared to be eyeing up Amber like the gross old fuck he was. Seth bit back a snarl. Don't end up on their shit list, whatever you do. "Oooh, dis must be Amber. Treatin' my son well?"

"...Hello."

"Don't talk much, do ya. I hope you two have been gettin' alahng."

"Uh." She looked up from her phone. "...Getting along okay."

Molly blinked, turning towards Seth.

"Can she speak English?"

"What. What? Of course, she just did. Are you seriously tellin' me you never talked to Amber b'fore we got married?"

"Don't tahk back to yer mother. I ain't done nothin' but support you."

"...Right." Dammit, mom.

"...Where's she from? One'a those Asian... Middle-Eastern countries?"

"Those are two completely different parts of the world."

"Seth. What is with this attitude. Have you been spendin' time with your brother?"

"Uhhhhh." Not really. "Maybe a li'l."

"Don't let th' baby near him. He's a bad influence." Molly sighed. "Well, we're gonna be in our hotel. 's quite a ways from here, but, yanno. Feel free t' visit. Wanna meet up fer breakfast tomorrow? 'ave a good time?"

"I'll check my schedule."

She kissed him on the cheek, like anyone's mother would, and the parents departed. Feeling emptier than before, Seth shut the door and locked it. "I just realized I kinda hate my parents." Amber didn't reply.

-

Amber woke him at 4 in the morning. His eyes still bleary, she muttered the words.

"My water's broken."

From there, rather than calling 9-1-1, (or whatever Australian equivalent there was) he hauled his wife into the bathtub and used the knowledge he had from every single medical drama he'd seen since childhood. It was too damn stressful. There was gross fucking afterbirth goop in his bathtub and Amber was screaming swear words in what sounded like seven languages at once. He didn't want to break its neck, he didn't want to do something wrong and carry that responsibility until the day he died. 

The crown of the baby's head met his shaking fingers, and he swore a teary, gross smile crossed his freckled face. The child was free, and the placenta following. It was screaming and crying, but alive, and now it was in his hands.

"I'm responsible f'this." He was even more of a weeping, sobbing mess than the baby was. "Heaven help me."

"Neither of us know how to take care of this."

"Damn straight, we don't."

It was so slimy and smelly and he didn't want to fuck this up, and he spent over two hours trying to snip the umbilical cord. (Or, at least, that's what it felt like.) "We can't tell anyone about this, if we do my mom's gonna wanna..."

Get involved.

Fuck the kid up.

"He's a sweet boy." Amber blinked. "What do we name him?"

"...Where are you from?" Another weird look from his wife.

"My parents were from Tibet. I was raised there until age 11."

"You got any ideas?"

"...Phuntsok?" She looked at him. "It means 'excellence'."

"I like it. This kid's gonna get adopted by an excellent family."

-

Fabricating a miscarriage was easier than Seth expected. Nobody asked to see the corpse, thankfully. (If they did, he'd just use raw steak or something.) He was piled in emails, reading 'sorry for your loss', because everyone in his family was stupid. Phuntsok was a bit shy, so maybe he'd never find a home, but he just hoped. Dammit, he hoped. He was a good kid. His hands fuddled with the cell phone as Amber fed their son on the couch.

"Pickles."

"...Fuck do you want."

How else would his brother greet him on a Monday morning.

"I need to know how to, like..." He swallowed. "Give away a kid."

"...The fuck? Dood, yer son is dead, you told me."

"No, no, I-I... I lied."

"Fuckin' typical. You wanted sympathy? Want mom to feel even more bad fer ya?"

"That ain't it. Look, I-I'll explain myself later, I just- I need your help."

"Yeh, how much money do you want."

"Just tell me how t' put my son up for adoption, fuck's sakes."

"...I can get my manager to look into it."

"You- oh my god, thank you. You're a lifesaver. Fuck."

"Are you cryin'? What's th' big deal?"

"I don't want mom gettin' involved, I can't raise a kid. He's gonna end up all fucked-up. I'm just- I'm a mess."

"Damn straight, y'are."

"I want him to have a decent future, and he don't got one here."

"...Right. At least yer tryin' fer once."

"Uh-huh."

-

Phuntsok had, with any luck, found a new home. But, in any case, everyone else believed he was dead. And that was for the best.

Seth hardly knew about the adoption and foster care world. He just prayed that the little bastard was alright. It kept him up at night for awhile. And now he was okay. He was tired, now, just tired. That was how things were.

But he could drink again.

And that was good enough.


End file.
